


Big Talk

by Bisexual_SickBoy



Category: Trainspotting (Movies), Trainspotting Series - Irvine Welsh
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Tommy is only mentioned though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25311697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bisexual_SickBoy/pseuds/Bisexual_SickBoy
Summary: A few important conversations and events in Mark's and Simon's relationship.
Relationships: Mark "Rent Boy" Renton/Simon "Sick Boy" Williamson
Kudos: 8





	Big Talk

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be a one-shot, but after writing it, it made more sense to split it up into two chapters.  
> There won't be any usage of heroin in this fic because I cannot bring myself to write about it as I have absolutely no idea what it's like being on it, and also because the fact that Mark has gotten his life in order is quite a vital part of the story.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy the story!

Waverley Station was not a suitable environment for someone with a raging hangover. The thundering sounds from the trains and the endless patter from the huge masses of people travelling through the station made Simon wanting to commit genocide. But instead of murdering with his bare hands he took a deep breath and looked at the big clock on the wall. It was five minutes until Mark’s train was due to arrive. Simon had to admit to himself that he was rather looking forward to Mark’s arrival. It was strange having the only person you’d ever cared about with no ulterior motive behind on the other side of the bloody country. He’d actually missed Mark. Not that he had any plans to tell him that. He was still pissed that Mark had gotten a grip on his life for real for once, and actually quit the drugs properly and moved to London. Part of his irritation came from jealousy. Simon was secretly jealous that Mark had gotten away and actually done something with himself, Mark had always been the smart one, the determined one, the one who went to university, who didn't have a messed up family. But most of his anger came from being left behind. From the fact that he hadn’t even been asked if he wanted to come, Mark had just come to him one day and explained that he had gotten a flat in London and was moving down there by the end of the month and asked Simon if he wanted to break their whatever-they-had, or if he wanted to try and make it work anyway. Simon hadn’t wanted to show Mark that he was kind of hurt by the fact that he was leaving him, but had agreed to try and maintain their ”thing”, granted that they made some rules. They had agreed to be semi-open, which meant no sex with other men and no feelings towards other people, basically it was fine to have meaningless sex with women, as long as you stay away from feelings and other men. Simon had tried to get with someone a few times, but, and this was another thing he’d never admit to Mark, it had always felt wrong and in the end he hadn’t been able to go through with it. 

He sighed and lit a cigarette, it was a sweet comfort for a few seconds before he once again was reminded of his hammering hangover by the awful flavour combination of bitter smoke, toothpaste and old beer that lingered in the back of his mouth. With a disgusted face he dropped the cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, and when he looked up again he saw Mark walking towards him with a slight, almost boyish, smile going on. 

”You look like shite”, he commented, looking Simon up and down. 

”Oh cheers! What a wey tae greet someone yeh haven seen in months! Ah’ve nivir felt this wanted!” Simon answered in a fake insulted tone.

”Git fucked” Mark answered with a laugh and pulled him in for a hug. 

They made the ten minutes walk from the train station to Simon’s flat in a comfortable silence, only occasionally exchanging a few words. It felt good and natural to be reunited. Like it was the way it was meant to be, Simon thought, immediately mentally slapping himself for even thinking something so sappy and stupid. But it was true, it was how it had always been, Simon and Mark, Sick Boy and Renton, ever since they were kids. 

Simon unlocked the door when they reached the flat, letting them in. The moment the door had closed behind them Mark pressed Simon against it, engulfing him in a kiss filled with so much passion and want he’d fallen back hadn’t the door been there to support him. They tugged at each others clothes, fighting for dominance, before they broke apart. Mark tugged at the front of Simon’s shirt, pulling him towards the bedroom down the hall. 

As they reached the bed Mark let himself fall backwards and pulled Simon on top of him. Simon leaned down and started kissing and biting lightly at Marks neck and let his hands roam over his lower body. Encouraged by the moans Mark let out, he let slipped his hands under the shirt, pushing it lightly upwards, indicating that he wanted it off. Mark, getting the hint, sat up slightly and lifted his hands above his head, allowing Simon to pull it off, before laying down again. Simon quickly threw his shirt off as well and leaned down for a tender kiss. 

Everything happened quickly after that. They both knew the ritual, having done this a million times before. Belt buckles clinked against linoleum floor, air thick with heat and heavy moans, the distinct sound of flesh meeting flesh. It was heated, desperate and sloppy and Simon felt absolutely blissful. He’d missed this. Missed the intimacy. Missed knowing exactly which spots to hit, where to touch and kiss and it was heaven to have it all again and in the heat of the moment his tongue slipped and let out what he’d promised himself he would say; “Ah’ve missed ye” 

Mark paused for a second, pulling himself back to reality. He looked at Simon with passion- no love- and smiled a little. “Ah’ve missed ye tae” he said. Simple, like it was almost unnecessary to say. 

Simon smiled and kissed Mark again, fiercely. 

-

Simon and Mark were lying next to each other on the narrow bed in Simons flat, silently sharing a cigarette, both deeply sunk into their own thoughts. It was quiet, save for the faint sounds of their breathing. 

After a while Mark broke the silence. ”Ah’ve been thinkin” he started.

Simon turned his head to look at him. ”Aye? Aboot whae then?”

Mark chewed his lip and thought for a while, looking away from Simon’s searching eyes. ”See, ah’ve been feelin’ funny since Tommy died. Ah feel like…. likesay, it’s mah fault he died. Like, if ah hadny nicked the tape from him Lizzie wouldny huv dumped him n he wouldny huv started usin. Like, ah ken it wis his aun decision n aw but ah feel like ah shoulda seid summat n it’s been eatin me up fir a while.” He hadn’t looked at the other man once through his little speech and now he peered up at him slightly, eyes filled with guilt and questions.

Simon sighed and thought for a while. He put out the finished cigarette and stretched for a new one. Almost half the cigarette was gone before he spoke up. ”Ah hope ye dinny expect me tae tell ye yer wrong cause ah canny” he half-joked. Mark didn't laugh so he continued in a more serious tone: ”but seriously Mark, ye canny beat yirsel up aboot thae. Ah guess ye can, in ah wey, sey it wis yer fault, but like ye said Tommy wis a grown man. He made his aun decision n it coulda been anyone ay us takin the tape n sellin him the skag. We’re all absolute wankers whae should look eftir each other better. Tommy dinny blame ye an ye shouldny either. An tae be honest, eftir Spud yer the best person ay us aw. Nicest, maist morally clean.” He snuck his arms around Mark’s waist and kissed his temple, an uncharacteristically sweet and soothing gesture from him. He usually wasn't one for loving affection. Must’ve sensed I needed it, Mark thought and moved closer to Simon, relishing in the rare moment of affection. 

They must have fallen asleep because the next time Mark opened his eyes it was dark. He stretched for Simon’s expensive (probably stolen) designer watch on the floor under the bed to check the time. They were meant to meet the others at the pub at eight and now it was… 8:26. Shite. 

He snaked out of Simon’s arms and felt around at the floor around the bed, trying to find his boxers. He found a pair, probably not his own, but it was better than nothing. Carefully he began to wake Simon up, who just turned around and asked him to fuck off. 

”Honestly, mate, we needity go now. Ye can bitch n moan all ye like when we get back or the morra but now we have tae go, we were supposed tae meet the others half an hour ago.”

Still not lifting his head from the pillow Simon mumbled a reply: ”D’ye really think ”mate” is the appropriate term tae use fir someone whae’s dick wis inside ye no tae long ago?”  
Mark rolled his eyes as he put his clothes on and collected Simon’s and threw them at him. 

”Get dressed, ye absolute diva. Ah’m takin a pish.”

As he left he heard Simon getting out of the covers and into his clothes with a heavy sigh. 

-

The pub was the usual. Begbie telling his boring, exaggerated stories, packed with lies, while the rest hummed in the right places and tried to get as drunk as possible in the shortest amount of time. Simon sat next to Begbie, Mark was on the opposite side of the table from him, next to Spud. He rolled his half empty pint glass between his hands while letting his thoughts drift to the events earlier in the afternoon. He started thinking about the shagging. The bare skin and Marks panting moans, but as he felt his skin grow hot from the mere thought, he quickly moved forward to their conversation about Tommy. Simon had thought about the same thing, even before Mark brought it up. But he wasn’t one for feeling bad about his actions, especially not when he wasn't directly to blame. It was, after all, not he who stole the tape, he just watched it and kept his mouth shut when Tommy told them that Lizzie had broken up with him because of it. 

Suddenly the voices and laughter of his friends broke into his train of thought, and it made him feel suffocated and irritated.

”Ah’m goin’ fir a smoke”, he said to no one in particular, and stood up and left. 

Outside the bar it was quiet and quite chilly. He pulled his thin blazer closer around himself and lit a cigarette. It bothered him not being able to put his finger on exactly why his and Mark’s earlier discussion wouldn’t leave his mind. 

The door behind Simon opened and Mark’s head peaked out.

”Hey” he said, lightning his own cigarette.

”Hey” Simon answered.

They stood next to each other silently for a while before Mark broke the silence. 

”Yi’ve been dead quiet all nite, something up?” he asked, looking directly at Simon although he wasn’t meeting his gaze.

”Ah dinnae ken… Ah’ve been thinkin’ ay something, but it doesnae matter” he answered.  
”Naw, dinnae gie me that, Simon. Ah ken ye better than that. An although ah ken ye dinnae like labels ye n ah are tigether n that means ye can tell me stuff tha’s oan yer mind. So go oan, tell me” 

Now Mark was right in front of him, looking him straight in the eyes, not letting him get away. It made Simon beyond uncomfortable. Mostly because Mark was right. But he wasn’t about to make himself that vulnerable and exposed. So he did what he always did. Put on a cocky smile and answered:  
”Ah dinnae owe ye shite jist ’cause we’re shaggin’, but awright ah’ll tell ye but no here. Ah’ll tell ye later, yeah? Satisfied?”

Mark, used to Simon’s backlash of exaggerated masculinity and closing up the minute something sensitive came up, just shrugged and crushed the cigarette under his shoe before going back inside.

Simon sighed and leaned back against the wall. He hadn't meant to get so pissy but it just came automatically. He never actually wants to lash out on Mark, but it just happens and even though Simon know Mark knows he doesn't mean it, he still feel guilty about it. He felt especially bad about the ”just ’cause we’re shagging” part. He knew he hurt Mark every time he referred to their relationship as some sort of meaningless sex constellation, however little the other man showed he was hurt. It was just that it was such an easy button to push every time Simon got upset. He shook his head at himself and dropped the end of the cigarette to the ground, and went back in to the others. 

-

”Jesus Spud! It’s aw over me shoes!” Mark exclaimed, trying to hold a stumbling and vomiting Spud upright. Simon was supporting him from the other side. Somehow it was always them who ended up having to help Spud home. When Mark still lived in Edinburgh his flat was closest to Spud’s and now Simon’s is the closest. 

”Sorry… Sorry Rents, ah dinnae mean tae… sorry” Spud slurred before throwing up again. 

Mark made a disgusted face, looking away from the stomach contents on the pavement. 

”It’s awright, come oan let’s get ye hame now” he said.

The three of them stumbled home slowly, ever so often having to stop so Spud could vomit. After wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he looked back and forth between Mark and Simon, a drunken smile on his face. ”Yir sae kind tae me. Yir booth playin real mean n hard hearted wi the others but yir real softies inside, ken? Ye deserve each other, ah’m happy fir ye” he managed to say.

At that both Simon and Mark stiffened.  
”The fuck ye oan aboot?!” Simon asked, suddenly very defensive. 

Spud sobered slightly at the harsh tone in Simon’s voice and was a little more collected when he answered:

”Ah ken the two ay ye are dating. Ah’ve kent fir ah while, n ah jist want ye tae ken tha ahm happee fir ye n ah support ye.” He made and attempt to squeeze their shoulders in a sort of half-hug and smiled at them. 

”Fuck’s sake” Simon mumbled under his breath and roughly shrugged Spud off his shoulder, leaving Mark with the whole weight.

”Simon, fucking wait!” Mark called out after him, absolutely in vain. He had to go for another strategy and dragged Spud over to a park bench nearby where he sat him down, with very clear instructions not to move until he was back. He felt a little silly talking to his friend as if he was a toddler but how else was he to be sure his words got through?

When the other man nodded in confirmation that he’d understood the instructions, he headed off in the same direction Simon had wandered off.

He found him not too far away, leaning against a tree while smoking a cigarette.

”Was yer ego n reputation as a man whore so hurt by that so ye had tae run oaf tae sulk? Honestly?” Mark asked accusingly.

”Oh come oan Mark! As if yer so absolutely delighted tae her Spud found oot aboot us? Get oaf yer high moral horses!” Simon shot back. 

Mark sighed and took a few steps closer to him before relying in a much calmer tone:

”No, ah suppose ah’m no exactly pleased about it. But it’s only Spud, an he even seid he wis pleased fir us, so ah’m no goin tae let it become a big deal. It coulda bin Begbie n the we woulda bin ded by now. Besides, if we talk tae him the morra, when he isny pished oot ay his heid an throwing up every tenth metre ah’m sure he’ll agree tae no telling anyone.”

Simon was still moping but relaxed and mumbled an agreement.

”Come oan, want me tae kiss it better?” Mark said jokingly, holding his arms out to him. 

”Ah’ve nivir felt mair like an outed closeted fairy in me puff an ah dinny like it so get yir homosexual paws away from me” Simon snapped, but it lacked bite because he was smiling at the same time.

He let the remains of the cigarette fall to the ground before moving towards where Mark had left Spud, giving Mark a slap to the arse when he passed him.

-

When they got back, Spud had fallen asleep on the bench, snoring lightly.

”Jesus” Mark let out quietly. He poked Spud’s shoulder lightly, trying to bring him back to consciousness, without result.

”Oi, Spud!” Simon called out sharply, to which he woke up with a jolt. 

Spud was quiet for the rest of the way home, probably because he was more asleep than awake. Mark and Simon was now dragging him like a big sack, rather than supporting him and as they reached Simon’s building, they were both drenched in sweat. It wasn’t more than a ten minutes walk further down the street to get to Spud’s flat, but the two men were finished. 

”Ah canny take it anymair” Simon said. ”Having Spud sleeping over is truly the last thing ah want right now, but ah canny bear tae drag his sorry arse yin mair metre doon this road can we please just go upstairs n throw him own the couch so we can shag n sleep. Ah dinny care anymair.”

Mark smiled coyly. ”Simon!” he exclaimed in a jokingly tone. ”Who knew ye could be such a caring romantic?”

Simon didn’t bother to reply, he only flipped him the V and started dragging Spud up the stairs. With a lot of struggle and joint forces they managed to get Spud into the cramped flat and onto the sofa. They managed to accidentally hit Spud’s head into a few hard edges on the way, but Mark could’ve bet all his money Spud wouldn't remember any of it in the morning. 

The minute Spud was on the couch, Simon headed to the bedroom, trying to persuade Mark to join him instantly. But Mark stayed a little longer, putting a blanket over his friend and getting a spliff from Simon’s not-very-secret stash. He liked the feeling of falling asleep while on pot, it was like falling asleep on a floating cloud after an amazing orgasm. It was nowhere near heroin, but he was clean now, and so was Simon, at least for the moment, and as the dull burning of desire was still present, so any type of release and solace, however small, was welcome. 

As he got to the bedroom, he lit the joint and handed it to Simon, who was already in bed, so he could undress himself. 

They passed the joint between them while necking and talking a little. Despite Simon’s earlier expressing of desire for sex, neither of them were up for it when it came down to it. Dragging Spud home like a limp cadaver had emptied them on energy and the mere knowledge of his presence in the next room killed the lust completely. 

Instead they both fell asleep instantly after putting out the last of the smoke into an ashtray beside the bed.


End file.
